


Not doing whatever it is they were actually sent to do

by Lye_Ve



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:40:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lye_Ve/pseuds/Lye_Ve
Summary: Mr. Gaiman said that, if there was a second season of Good Omens (quite impossible, though) it would be about Aziraphale and Crowley not doing whatever it is they were actually sent to doThis is my version of the two characters through Man's history
Kudos: 1





	1. Egypt, around 1,200 BC

The sandals of the entity that was wandering among the houses made in mudbricks were raising red clouds of dust, among the beaten sand of the alley. The silence was so deep that the rinsing of some fish jumping from the river water could be heard from time to time. Not even the entity’s shoes were making a noise on the path.  
The night was moonless, and the few lights enlightening the streets were gleaming from the rare oil lamps of some lucky house. But the entity did not need lights to see through the narrow alleys that unravelled through the city near the Egyptian capital of Pi-Ramses, because his eyes could distinguish the doors of houses marked with lamb blood even in the dark.  
It was dressed in white, and although it had given up showing his wings centuries earlier, it was an angel.  
The angel carried a long papyrus with him, and he was diligently writing on it with a goose feather which was leaving a golden trace on the scroll. The papyrus was divided into two columns: on one, the doors with the sign of blood, on the other, the doors without the sign. He barely raised his eyes to look around, almost as if he knew where to find the traces of the sacrifice.  
Then something interrupted his concentration and he lifted his head. The expression on his face changed from quiet to anxious, the previous fluid movements became snappy, he began to zig-zag in the alley for no evident reason. Finally, he stopped near to the corner of a house, overlooking a shadow lying on the ground, who was no higher than a meter.  
"Crawly!" He murmured in the end, in a surprised voice. "What are you doing here?"  
The shadow, a person dressed in dark clothes, with long dark hair partially gathered in a braid, raised his face and looked at the entity dressed in white; finally, he smiled.  
"Hey! Aziraphale! What a pleasure to see you here! "  
He leaned one hand and then his back against the red wall: he struggled to his feet, his legs trembling. As unstable as he was, he managed to stay upright long enough to look the newcomer in the eyes.  
"What am I doing? I’m helping Uriel! - Aziraphale's voice was rather annoyed, although he was speaking at a low tone - What are *you* doing here, instead? And try not to speak too loud! "  
"Me? - For a moment Crawly seemed to peer inside himself in search of an answer to give to Aziraphale - Well, there is this Pharaoh, isn't it so? And he’s having problems with some guys who want to leave Egypt - the demon paused - the people ... selected... called... how... "  
"Chosen, the Chosen People!" corrected Aziraphale  
“That one, yes. Well, I had come here to help the Pharaoh to give them some hard time. But then they made a new harvest in the fields and there is a new batch of beer in the village. And I thought I'd stop by before I go to him. And you? We haven't seen each other for a while ... From ... From that huge bull? "  
Crawly smiled a crooked smile, trying to stay on his feet. It seemed to him that the wall was constantly moving and quite reluctant to hold him up.  
Aziraphale looked angrily at Crawly.  
"Oh! So it's your work, infamous demon! "  
Crawly looked at Aziraphale disoriented. "What?"  
"The Pharaoh who does not want to leave the chosen People free!" said Aziraphale in a most obvious tone.  
The demon produced an angry hiss through his teeth. "What? You mean he thought about it already? " Then he stopped swaying and stared at the void a few seconds, before starting to talk again - Oh, well, he did something. - he shrugged and snapped his tongue - I think I'll make a report and say it's all right. "  
Aziraphale straightened his shoulders and stuck his chest out proudly "It is not all right! To punish the Pharaoh of his choice, tonight all the firstborn of the families that do not belong to the Chosen People will be taken by the Angel of Death! I'm doing the census right now! "  
All of a sudden, as if he had never touched a ladle of beer, Crawly got to his feet, stable, and assumed a serious expression. "What are *you* doing?" Asked.  
The angel made a gesture with his hand indicating the buildings around. “Do you see the houses? The ones with the bloodstain on the door, those are the houses of the ones who will be saved! The houses of the Chosen People! "  
The demon threw his head back in disgust. "Oh! Not again! "  
Aziraphale took a step back. "What do you mean with ‘not again’?"  
"God always messing with kids! Earlier there was the flood, now the Egyptians! " Crawly replied shaking his head.  
"Well - Aziraphale looked around - consider yourself responsible!"  
"Me? You told me the Pharaoh made the decision for the Chosen People must not leave Egypt! He did it all by himself! I was here drinking!" Complained the demon.  
“However, it's too late now! - the angel cut short - I am completing the list of houses of the families to save and soon the Angel of Death will move on to spread the black disease among the condemned! It's my duty!"  
Crawly wrinkled his nose and went close to Aziraphale’s face. "And you don't feel guilty about those innocents?"  
Aziraphale hesitated and swallowed a couple of times, keeping his eyes down on the papyrus. "It's the ine-  
"Ineffable plan, isn't it?" Crawly ended Aziraphale’s phrase and leaned his head to the side.  
Aziraphale cleared his throat but still kept his eyes on the papyrus and the golden handwriting.  
Without adding a word, Crawly turned his back on him and started walking past all the doors.  
Aziraphale followed Crowley’s path "And now what the he- the angel didn't need to finish the question because he realized exactly what the demon was doing.  
Equipped with an olive branch stained with lamb blood, Crawly was smearing the doors of all the houses in the village that Aziraphale had not yet registered. The angel ran after the demon “Stop! You will mess all my census! "  
Crawly turned to him without stopping and looked at him up and down seriously.  
"Oh please! Be quiet and write down! "  
“That's not the way it should be done, Crawly! What will I tell to the upper floors in my report? " Aziraphale protested, pointing the feather up to the sky.  
"Look, let's make it as you never saw me. You don't have to put the fact that you saw me! " Murmured the demon.  
"But it would be lying!"  
"No! It is simply leaving out some details! I always do it.! "  
"But you are a demon! That’s your job! I'm an angel! I have to do what they tell me! "  
"And did they happen to tell you to write it down if there was any demon that smeared doors? No! They told you to write the names of the stained doors! " Crawly hissed between his teeth.  
Aziraphale hesitated but could not answer. He resumed writing following the demon.


	2. 1020, Italy, the campaign of Henry II of Germany (Holy Roman Empire)

The soldiers were pitching the poles of the tents for the night camp, while Aziraphale was in charge of the fire.  
It would have been extremely easy for him to light the fireplace with one thought, but he preferred to do it in the way of the humans: he was fascinated to see how a simple spark could set the log on fire so easily.  
For thousands of years, he had been intrigued by the various techniques that men had invented to set fire: from the simple gesture of picking a burning branch to the invention of the flint.  
Oh, by the way, obviously his sword did not count: that was Holy Fire, which would not have affected the matter at all: after all, even the bush through which Moses spoke to the Metatron was not really burning.  
He took his pointed helmet off, and then his camail. They were rather heavy objects to carry, and they were definitely not recommended to be worn while setting the fire, since fire warmed the iron rather quickly, and he had noticed the consequences the first time he did it.  
He also took off the plated leather jacket, then knelt beside the circle of stones on the ground.  
Next to him, the cook was removing the kitchen equipment from a mule.  
"Today we didn’t move on a lot!" the cook complained. He was a thin and lanky guy with a bald head but with a beard that could have replaced the hair on his head if only it had been combed in the right way.  
Aziraphale stopped to ponder. "Yes, it's true. I wonder why. We have been slowing down for a few days, now. "  
Another thin young soldier came up with a bucket full of water taken from the nearby river. “It seems that the cause of this is one of the last groups that joined the troops. - he said - They are slow because they constantly lose their leader. "  
Aziraphale tilted his head in annoyance. “Unfortunately war leads the less competent to join in too. Luckily, they have faith in God in the same way as we do. "  
The soldier laughed. “I don't think so. He does nothing but swearing the Lord all day. His horse has less faith than him, however: it does nothing but unseating him! That's why they are this slow! "  
Aziraphale, who was rubbing the flints between them, stopped and turned to his companion. "I beg your pardon, what did you say?"  
“The new knight is not a knight at all! He is constantly thrown from the horse!  
Aziraphale got up and quickly began to wander among the troops.  
He looked into each tent, on the couches and in the several kitchens. For a moment, he also thought of looking into the barrels.  
It did not take him too long to find a guy who, for the umpteenth time, was pushed on a horse by a couple of poor wretches to regularly fall on the opposite side after a few seconds.  
The angel approached the man on the ground and reached out to help him get up.  
"Crowley!" Aziraphale started irritated.  
"Aziraphale! What a pleasure to see you in war! " exclaimed the demon.  
Aziraphale, on the other hand, did not seem pleased at all. "What are you doing here? I suspect you’re not here to help conquer the Holy Roman Empire and the Word of God! "  
"Obviously not! I'm here to slow down the campaign. " the demon replied calmly as he tried to get up and approach the horse again.  
The horse made a gesture of irritation with its foot and snorted nervously. Crowley hissed back.  
The angel addressed him with the same tone of irritation. "My compliments! You are doing it well! You're slowing down the whole army! "  
Crowley turned to him and frowned. "That's what I have to do! Do you think I‘m having fun? I've been miraculously healing my bones for five days! I'm constantly in the mud, and the horse doesn’t like me! "  
"Of course it doesn’t like you! You are a demon! Anyway, be informed I'm not having fun, too! The food is really bad, I am responsible to light the fire and the first times I almost burnt my head being too close to the fire, with these iron things! " Aziraphale pointed to some aventails piled up on the ground.  
Crowley snorted. "It's a waste of time, don't you think?"  
A flash of awareness crossed Aziraphale's face but quickly summed up to his impassive expression of calmness. "Working for the ineffable plan is not a waste of time!" He replied through his teeth without keeping his eyes off from the pile of aventails.  
Crowley grimaced. “Are you really persuaded? Look at yourself! Look at me! - He indicated himself first and then the angel - We have been in the mud for hundreds of years, under the scorching sun, we break our bones, we fill in paperwork, and for what? They don't even look at what I write down! They go straight to the bottom lines! They could very well put a questionnaire with one question and two crosses. 'Did you do it?’ ‘Yes’, ‘No’, and then we move on to the next task. Next mud, next desert, next damned broken bones because of a quadruped! - the horse neighed annoyed - Nobody cares how you do it. "  
Crowley paused dramatically and raised an eyebrow "Or if it is you to do it." A flash of malice crossed his eyes.  
Aziraphale backed off shocked. "Are you… inferring we start doing each other's work? "  
Crowley shrugged. "Well, if you put it in this way ..."  
"I don't put it in any way, that's what you implied! And in any case, I will certainly not sell myself to the Devil! "  
Crowley rubbed his aching arm. “Listen Aziraphale, - he said persuasively - it's not a question of selling yourself to your competitor. I am not appealed at the thought of working with your colleagues, either. But in the end, what you do I can do it too, right? Same family, different work plans. So, it may be that every once in a while, some of us does both jobs, while on other occasions we just don't ruin the other’s plan. Do you think I'm having fun now? " He gestured indicating the camp in the dusk, and the horse.  
Then he continued. "We don’t have to do it every time. Only occasionally. Like 'hey, I tried to do it, but I had evil obstacles' And you blame me. I would do the same with you. Then everyone on their way. You go back to eating stuffed peacocks and I ... I'll do something. It's a huge saving of time and energy. "  
Aziraphale looked down perplexed. He pursed his lips. He sighed and then went back to staring at Crowley's hypnotic eyes with their vertical pupils.  
"Just once in a while?" asked the angel.  
"Just in case both of us are forced to stand in each other’s way." Crowley said, while stretching his hand to the angel. "Agree?"  
Aziraphale hesitated. He moved his arm towards Crowley then withdrew it again for a few seconds. Finally, he reached out and took the demon's one. "Agreed."  
The horse snorted and kicked, frightening Crowley, who tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground.


	3. Bright Young Things London 1930s

The car speeded fastly past the barriers, raising dust that went to cover the onlookers’ spats.  
It was a cold November day despite the sun was shining on the English country road, where a large group of young people from the city of London had decided to organize the car race.  
Bowl hats covered the heads of the girls who had returned from the hairdresser's routine in the middle of the morning. The locks of the symmetrical waves of their hair came out of the felt brim in the most vibrant colours, and they were showing off fur collar overcoats. The men in camel coats raised their hands holding the tickets of the illegal bets, every time the car they had bet on passed.  
The whole place was dangerous: the barriers were actually wooden poles planted on the ground like cattle fences: if the drivers had lost control of the car, someone would have lost their lives. The bets were obviously illegal, but also the cocaine that was going around in snuff boxes and noses wasn't very legal.  
And there was who had decided to send Aziraphale to check out among these young smiling faces. Gabriel, of course.  
So, the blonde angel was wandering among the thin bodies of the young Londoners in their 20s wearing his old fashioned coat, at least fifty years out of fashion, occasionally stopping someone to have a chat and try to put them on the right path.  
"Sodom and Gomorrah ..." he murmured. “Maybe they should have sent Sandalphon here. It would have been more successful if they’d turn everyone into salt statues. ” Then he shivered at the thought and decided that perhaps it was better not.  
A deafening roar rose from the end of the dusty road, and as the roar increased, the louder the crowd shouted. Some men even jumped out of euphoria.  
Aziraphale managed to make his way through the mob and leaned over the fence just in time to see it coming and brake with a big fuss: it was a red and black car, with the number 666 painted on the steaming hood. The angel winced in disgust. Then, an "O" of surprise formed in his mouth, and it grew bigger and longer as his jaw dropped down.  
A young man came out of the car: very thin and dressed in a black suit with red trim, just like the car. He was showing off the latest fashion hairstyle, lined on one side, and well-groomed thin moustache on the upper lip. He was wearing a pair of dark goggles.  
Aziraphale immediately recognized Crowley's face and style. Of course, the hairstyle had changed, the moustache was not there the last time, but it certainly was the demon.  
Crowley raised his hands to greet the crowd and approached the wooden poles, shaking hands with those who offered it to him.  
"Crowley! Crowley! " Aziraphale tried to call him, but the clamour of the girls who reached out to the demon pulling him towards their bodies covered his voice.  
Aziraphale waved his hand to form a gap in the crowd and marched stiffly towards the demon, who, at that moment was held captive by two girls, one brunette and the other red, competing on who would first leave an imprint of lipstick on his face.  
The angel reached out to the two girls and dragged them away from the demon.  
Then he poured on him all his indignation and disgust.  
"Crowley, I don't think it's appropriate to stir up more chaos in the minds of these poor girls! Where have you been in the past hundred years? Planning all this? If I had known you were behind all of this I would have refused the assignment and sent Gabriel directly! "  
The demon wasn’t offended at all by the estrangement of the two girls, on the other hand, he smiled at the angel. "Aziraphale! Did you come to join the party? "  
"Party? This is Sodom and Gomorrah! Illegal betting, young girls, wine and drugs! Did you bring the drugs? "  
Crowley pulled a face both offended and surprised. "Me? No! I only came for car racing! Look! Do you know cars? I'm going to get one! "  
He approached the black and red car.  
“I slept all through the nineteenth century. - he reached out to touch the hood, still warm - and humans give me this beautiful gift. No more horses! Basically, it is an armchair on four wheels that goes wherever you want and doesn’t unsaddle you! The. Car!"  
"I find it dangerous! - protested the angel - Like the girls over there!" and pointed to a group of young women who were casting unsavoury glances to the demon.  
Crowley’s face darkened. “Well, yes, accidents can always happen. Last week a girl went astray. Her friends took her to the hospital.” Crowley paused in thought, then smiled. “There was also a nice boy who often frequented the place among them: dark hair, fake nails, shades. I saw him going out of a party in a nightcap once. Interesting guy, in my opinion. "  
Aziraphale's face turned red. "So these are your interests, now ..."  
The angel turned his back on Crowley and walked briskly to the opposite side of the crowd.  
"Aziraphale? Where are you going?" The demon called him back.  
“Far from here, where I won’t be able to see this crowd of sinners! And I’ll send a letter to Gabriel - he paused thinking of the right words - in which I say that I have not been able to repress this place of sin! I'll definitely get a recall letter for this failure, but I find this to be the most disgusting thing since they discovered that Marquis. "  
Crowley turned pale. “You can't say this! I got myself out of that thing too! That was loathsome! On the other hand here, they’re just having some fun, here! " Crowley ran after Aziraphale. “What do you think if we had a glass of wine on the pier? Near Battersea Park, there is also a pavilion with an orchestra. "  
Aziraphale kept walking, without turning to the demon.  
"Listen, angel, if you want, I'll stop all of this!" Crowley waved his hand.  
A few moments later the screams behind Aziraphale were replaced by murmurs of bewilderment that rose from the audience. Bleating, cattle bells and screams could be heard too.  
Aziraphale turned.  
A flock of sheep had spread among the public, dispersing people, especially the girls with their trendy coats, while the mechanics with their heads in the hood of the cars wondered where the engines had gone.  
Crowley went on. "See? The race has stopped, people are leaving ... You can say that you have stopped Sodom and Gomorrah. "  
"And what will you say instead?" Murmured the blond.  
The devil shrugged. "I will tell that I ruined a party for two hundred people, ruined objects of thousands of pounds ... Maybe some of the people present will disperse in pairs and go to... - Aziraphale raised his hand to stop the demon. “All right! I’ve got the picture!”  
“Well, - Crowley went on - I'll invent something. I don't have to say why. I have to report the results, haven’t I? " He smiled at Aziraphale with a sly and serpentine expression. "Look, there are some nice shops going to the pier. We could stop to see if there is any silver Regency snuffbox or a rare book. For your collections. It’s up to me. "  
The angel lowered his eyes, his face revealed broken and confused feelings. "I shouldn't... accept favours from you." He waved his hand to push away some young person who had once again attempted to approach.  
"Are you sure this is what I’m doing now? Doing a favour to you?" said the demon frowning in a pretendedly dramatic way. “I ruined the party. I didn't do you a favour! "  
Aziraphale straightened up and stood in front of the demon, then raised his chin proudly. "But in the afterwards, promise me that you will no longer ride in a car in the middle of the fields or see any more people like that flock!"  
Crowley showed his teeth and hissed. "You can't be so messssy!"  
“No races, no Sodom and Gomorrah. I don't want you to risk to discorporate. There would be a lot of bureaucracy before… - Aziraphale hesitated - you could get back here. " Aziraphale's voice was firm.  
Crowley looked at the roll of money he had put in the pocket of his suit. “Well, after all, I was doing it for the money. And I have enough money to buy a Bentley. Come, angel. " He set off along the dirt path, leaving the flock of sheep and the flock of people behind him.  
In the distance, Aziraphale heard one of the girls talking as she cleaned her coat. "Oh, now I understand why he was never with us ..."


End file.
